


dog days are over

by clarkesyd



Category: Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: F/M, Gen, cw child loss mention, free spinster jo paddling her own canoe, i can write little a canon divergence. as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesyd/pseuds/clarkesyd
Summary: “There’s–there’s no ambitious artistic endeavour keeping you here, is there?”Amy’s smile turned apologetic. “I’m afraid not.”
Relationships: Amy March & Josephine March, Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145





	dog days are over

**Author's Note:**

> hello babes! i hope u are all taking care and staying inside if u can. leech rally neck deep in little women (2019) at the moment ✌️😙 so i thought i might as well write fic for it. as mentioned in the tags it deals with child loss (though not in depth) so it gets a bit sad at times BUT isn't chock full of angst or anything. mainly it's about amy's pregnancy with bess (her and laurie's daughter in canon) and her relationship with jo throughout. i adore them both and wish they would interact more in fanfic so i've taken it upon myself to produce some ContentTM. enjoy! let me know what u think in the comments :)

_happiness hit her, like a train on a track_

_coming towards her, stuck still no turning back_

florence and the machine, **dog days are over**

_**i.** _

Amy thought of the two children who should now be waddling about the halls of Parnassus and willed the baby in her belly to fight–to live. She knew her heart too well to hope it might recover from another loss, no matter what anyone said.

Sharing the news of the pregnancy seemed insurmountable for a number of reasons, not least that she couldn’t bear to see the familiar pity in her loved ones’ eyes as they uttered words of support that did nothing to soothe her nor her husband. Coincidentally, after the loss of their second child, Amy had taken to painting and sculpting with a fervour bordering on feverish, on more than one occasion for several weeks at a time, though Laurie had eventually managed to coax her out of it. Such fact allowed for what they hoped made a convincing enough lie: he would spread the rumour she had been commissioned to produce a complex piece, one that forced her to stay at home with little time to pay calls or attend the expected social events. In reality, she would be following the doctor’s instructions to the letter, laying in bed for the better part of the day with only a fifteen-minute stroll around the room to look up to. It was a relief they didn’t need to worry about poor Mister Laurence, who would have missed their visits hadn’t business matters retained him in the Continent. He was terribly sad about their previous loses, perhaps the most in the family besides Amy and Laurie themselves. It would be cruel to raise his hopes just for them to be crushed again.

Amy’s only maid was sworn to secrecy. The woman was kind and understanding, and made certain word didn’t get out, speaking to the staff of the house and promising discretion would be rewarded. Everyone knew which lies to tell in case of interrogation, sure to come with the Marches being so unwaveringly concerned about the well-being of both Amy and Laurie. _“Mrs. Laurence is very busy,”_ they would say. _“Locked up inside her studio all day, she is, but as cheerful and healthy as ever.”_

Amy and Laurie knew, however, that the most challenging aspect of their scheme would be to convince Jo that everything was normal. No practiced speech would fool her; she was far too clever and obstinate to fall for it. She would find it all very odd and ask more questions than there were credible answers for, if not avoid the questioning part altogether in favour of breaking into their home, a fact which would shock exactly no one, her little sister and best friend least of all.

“We have to tell her,” Laurie said, his hand feeling the movement of their child. He sat next to Amy on the bed, holding her in his arms and praying that a small bundle might soon lay nestled between them.

According to the Laurence family doctor, Amy was close to six months along, the farthest into pregnancy she had ever been. Neither would speak of the subject, so painful were the memories, but the awareness of it filled them both with equal measures of fear and hope.

“Not only because she’s growing suspicious, though of course she is,” he carried on, “but because I believe it would do us some good to confide in someone, my love.”

Amy’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “I know. I hate keeping something like this from them, but I also can’t help but fear Jo might let it slip on accident, as she sometimes is prone to do under pressure, and then we won’t hear the end of it. There’s nothing I would dislike more at present than to be fussed over even _more_ ,” this last came with a pointed look at her husband, though she couldn’t hold back a smile.

Laurie was always by her side, especially now, and seemed to know precisely how she felt and what she needed without her uttering a word. They were connected in that way, so attuned to each other it appeared as if perhaps they shared a single mind.

He kissed her forehead. “I understand your concern, but Jo isn’t as clumsy as she used to be. I’m certain she won’t tell anyone, if only we’re honest with her.”

“Yes. I suppose... Laurie, would you tell her to come by this afternoon, if she’s not too busy with the school?”

“You’re her sister. She’ll make time for you, even if she’s busy.”

“I don’t wish to bother her.”

“Isn’t bothering one another the very essence of family? I always thought so, myself.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Of course you did, Impertinence, and no doubt your grandfather can testify to it. But enough nonsense, now.” She tried for the most imperious tone she could muster, but the involuntary shake of her shoulders gave her away.

Sensing victory, Laurie seized the opportunity to raise her chin and nuzzle her neck. There was a sensitive spot there, and he was merciless, refusing to stop his ministrations until she was breathless with laughter. When he did her cheeks had a pretty pink blush to them, and her eyes sparkled with an alluring combination of both mirth and desire. It had been a while since they had last made love, to their shared dismay, and Laurie longed desperately to be buried in his wife’s softness, her body flush against his.

They had been strongly advised against any such thing, however, as Amy was in far too delicate a state to exert herself physically. _“Other pregnant women might have intercourse,”_ the doctor had explained, very matter-of-factly, _“but your case is different. To date you have experienced two miscarriages, and it would be a lie for me to deny the possibility of a third. You must take every precaution. For your child’s sake, and yours.”_

The recollection of the words had the same effect as a bucket of icy water being thrown over his head. He was a beast, to fantasize about what they might do together when she scarcely allowed herself to move out of fear she would bring harm to their baby. 

Amy had little trouble following the path of his thoughts. Of course she ached for him as well. For the eager joining of hips, the wicked words in her ear. Their child would always come first, but the want–it never really went away.

“I wish we could–” she began, before he cut her off with a kiss.

“ _Shh_ ,” he whispered against her lips. “We have time. We have all the time in the world.”

* * *

_**ii.** _

Jo was picking up the last of the chalk scattered across the floor when one of the girls she had hired entered the classroom with a letter in her hand.

“From Mister Laurence,” she announced, extending it to her.

“Teddy? How odd.” Jo took it and broke the seal, skimming its contents at once.

“How so?” asked the girl, watching her with mild curiosity.

“Well, I expect he would drop by instead of writing, seeing as the wretched boy lives so–” suddenly she stopped, folding the letter and putting it in her pocket.

“Is everything alright?”

“Not sure. It appears I’ve been summoned _tout de suite_. If this is a joke, my sister will soon find herself a widow.” And with that vague and outrageous statement–to those who didn’t know her–she all but flew from the room.

She ran to the house and found her friend waiting for her on the marble steps that led to the entrance of his home. The mansion, a great state that was indeed a sight to behold, was breathtakingly beautiful. It was elegant in a humble sort of way, as opposed to falling into the realm of ostentation like so many others did.

“What on _Earth_ ,” Jo said, breathless from the exertion, “is the matter?”

“Hello, my dear friend. Don’t be dramatic. Shall we go inside?”

Laurie guided Jo in the direction of his and Amy’s chambers, mumbling some rubbish about needing to write a quick missive to the family solicitor before he could join them there. She was annoyed by the absurd level of mystery surrounding the affair, something she expressed in no uncertain terms. He only shrugged, saying Amy wanted to speak with her. Jo bugged him about it all the way there, and was about to resort to extreme measures when he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her by the door with half a mind to run after him and drag him back by the ear. He still hadn’t disclosed the reason why Amy had requested her presence, and that puzzled her most of all.

“Jo? Is it you?”

At the sound of her sister’s voice, she stepped inside the room. “Amy.”

Jo’s avid eyes took in at once Amy’s form, so small in contrast with the enormous bed Laurie had insisted on purchasing upon their marriage, the golden hair she usually wore braided and pinned up _à la mode_ cascading down her bare shoulders and framing her pretty round–was it _rounder_?–face. She laid there in her nightclothes, surrounded by pillows, her fingers entwined over her middle.

“Jo.” Amy smiled at the sight of her.

“There’s–there’s no ambitious artistic endeavour keeping you here, is there?”

Amy’s smile turned apologetic. “I’m afraid not.”

Jo crossed the space between them in a few long strides. Unsure how to proceed, she fidgeted briefly before perching herself on the edge of the bed, taking her sister’s hands in hers.

“Oh, Amy.” She lowered her eyes before raising them again. “May I?”

With Amy’s tacit permission, Jo drew back the covers that had until then concealed the swollen belly underneath.

“How long?”

“Twenty-two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful, Amy. I’m so happy for you both.” And she was. Immensely, after all her sister and Teddy had been through.

“Thank you.” Then, before she could lose her nerve, “I’m terrified. I can’t help it. I keep waiting for the cramps to come, and I...” She paused, blinking back tears. “At least... at least this time there would be a body to bury, next to our Beth. I think she would like that.”

“Amy. Listen to me. This child will live. Do you hear me? They _will_.”

A sob caught in her throat. “You can’t know that.”

“Of course I can. I understand why you and Teddy didn’t tell us, though I wish you had. It wasn’t because you were scared of what might happen. You were doing what you had to to protect your baby, and staying here was the best way to do that. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, but you’re doing it, and things will go right this time. I promise.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. I swear it.” Jo run her thumb across her sister’s cheek, wiping her tears away.

“I want to believe that. More than anything.”

“Well, you should.”

“I’ll try my best to.” Amy’s voice was thick, but Jo could hear the quiet determination in it.

They embraced, Jo rubbing circles on Amy’s back as she hid her face in the crook of her neck. It reminded Jo of simpler days, when her baby sister ran to her for comfort at the smallest grief, from a stained dress to a missing drawing. This one was different–it ran too deep, and there wasn’t much Jo could do to make it better. But what she _would_ do was stand beside her sister and her friend, and help them shoulder whatever came next.

“Do you want me to fetch your husband?”

“No need. He promised to come back after we had a chance to catch up.”

“How is he?”

“You know Laurie. He won’t say anything, of course, but I can tell how worried he is. He sleeps little _if_ at all, because it’s gotten into him he must spend the night watching over me, and I pretend not to notice because if it crossed his mind he might be disturbing my own rest he wouldn’t forgive himself for it.” Amy sighed. “Fools, the pair of us.”

“Love does that to people, doesn’t it?”

“That it does,” she agreed, with an air of wistful resignation.

* * *

**_iii._ **

**_three months later_ **

In the months that followed Amy’s confession to Jo–and in spite of the amount of work that came with managing her own school and taking care of its students–she seemed determined to spend all of her spare time with her sister. Of course, the fact that Parnassus was so close to Jo’s own residence helped avoid raising suspicion. Why wouldn’t she visit her family more regularly when they lived such a short distance away? She could use a distraction from her duties, and Amy was in need of a muse for her art. That was the official version, anyway, and no one seemed inclined to question it. It had been a few eventful years since the two sisters had mended their differences, and so the fact they had grown closer as of late seemed like a natural progression, not something to pay special attention to.

They had a routine. Two or three times a week Jo would come in late in the afternoon, after lessons were done for the day, and tell Amy the most outrageous stories about her pupils. For her part, Amy sketched her or the people and events she described. She suspected Jo exaggerated if not outright invented a great deal of those anecdotes, but was far too entertained to question their veracity. Then they would supper together with Laurie, the three of them sitting at a small table that had been brought upstairs from the kitchen for their specific use. They could have had something more grand, but Amy found comfort in the simplicity of it.

Amy’s belly was as big as a house now, and Laurie caressed and kissed it to his heart’s content. It saddened Jo to realize he had never really had the chance to do it before, as the babies they lost were but tiny specks of life, so much so one couldn’t guess as to Amy’s condition by the sight of her alone, especially with the first. But soon they would have a healthy child to love and dote on for as long as they lived, and though it wouldn’t erase the memory of what had transpired before it would help mend their wounds and fill their lives with a happiness they had yet to experience. It made Jo feel positive about the future, not only for the two people she cared so deeply about but for herself as well; as it happened, she very much enjoyed being an aunt.

When Jo was around, she often took over Laurie’s role as Amy’s walking companion. Then they shared their thoughts on a wide variety of topics, ranging from the alleged faults and merits of those belonging to the highest cultural spheres to Daisy and Demi’s–though mostly Demi’s–latest act of mischief.

They had been walking for several minutes, this time poking fun at Charlotte Brontë’s _Jane Eyre_ , when Amy moaned, startling them both. Liquid began trickling down her legs, visible by the way her nightgown clung to the inner side of her thighs.

“Amy?” She appeared petrified, and Jo had to shake her shoulder to get her to react. “Amy, I think the baby is coming.”

“No. No, it can’t be. There’s still a week left. The doctor–”

“Amy, your water just broke. The baby is coming _now_.”

She was silent for a moment, as if struggling to process what was happening. “Laurie. Get Laurie.”

“I can’t–I can’t leave you like this.”

“I can’t do this without him,” she countered. The vicious grip on her arm and the pleading look in her sister’s eyes made Jo acquiesce without further protest.

“All right. I’ll send for him and the doctor, but you have to lay on the bed. Ring for your maid and tell her to count the space between each contraction. I’ll be back before you notice I've gone.”

Amy’s knuckles were white around the bedpost, and her breathing came in short bursts. “Jo?”

She turned back just as she was about to leave. “What?”

“Thank you.”

For a second Jo smiled at her, a warm, reassuring smile. Then she set off running with enough speed to rival the fine horses at Ascot’s Teddy’s English friends were always raving on about.

* * *

_**iv.** _

Amy’s forehead was damp with sweat. Her back was pressed against her husband’s chest, his own to the bedpost; Laurie’s legs were spread wide to either side of her so they wouldn’t interfere with the doctor and midwife’s work. It was doubtless an unconventional arrangement, but their combined wills wouldn’t be swayed. Amy was small enough that it was feasible for her to give birth this way, and soon enough she began to push, harder and harder as the doctor commanded. Her face and neck were tainted a fierce red, like a sunset sky from one of her paintings, Jo observed. With each renewed effort, her hand received a tight squeeze.

It went on like this for almost an hour. The end of it, however, came with a sudden wail, a sound that pierced through the room and seemed to stop time for a moment.

Amy leaned even more heavily on her husband, his arms closing around her shoulders. He kissed her brow, the crown of her head, whispering words of love and praise. The midwife held a light bundle with tiny arms and legs that refused to keep still, and announced the arrival of a perfectly healthy little girl. Jo found her eyes getting watery as she reached for her sister’s and Teddy’s hands.

“My daughter,” Amy said, crying and laughing at the same time, “ _please_ –please give her to me.”

After the doctor had checked for a second time to make sure the child was well, the midwife handed her to them with the utmost care. Jo had never seen happier parents, or ones more deserving of their joy. She left the room quietly and with the pretty picture they made at the forefront of her mind.

Amy held her baby close to her chest, finding it hard to believe it was all real–the child in her arms, this new lightness she felt spreading inside. Her husband cupped one side of her face with his hand, the other caressing the head of their child with infinite gentleness, and for the first time in years everything seemed right again, like the dark clouds overhead had finally given way to clear blue skies.

Breaking the news to the family was easier than it had appeared at first. There had been confusion, mostly from Meg and John, but overall they took it all in stride in true March-like fashion. As best summarised in an exchange between Jo and their mother:

_“Marmee. You knew?”_

_“I suspected, yes. Of course I couldn’t know for certain, but... your father and I, it occurred to us that she might be expecting, and if she didn’t wish to tell us, then... well, there was no choice but to respect her silence, and Laurie’s. But I haven’t seen them this happy since they were children themselves, so it doesn’t matter. I have a new granddaughter. I find it difficult to care about anything else.”_

Old dear Mister Laurence, who found himself a great-grandfather upon his return from the Continent, was likewise enchanted by “the little princess”, as he took to calling her. He swore off the initial impulse to be outraged as soon as he laid eyes on the child.

These were very happy times, beyond anything Amy had dared to imagine. She was still somewhat confined, as the act of giving birth was rather taxing on the body, as the doctor said. He had proved a wise fellow, and Amy would always be grateful to him, so it didn’t cross her mind to disobey his prescription of a few more days’ rest. She itched to go outside, but for the moment was content to simply be with her husband and daughter, as well as receive frequent visits from everyone else in the family. It was undeniable she had missed them dearly, even though having Jo near comforted her more than she could say. Amy knew she couldn’t hope to repay her, but she wanted to show her sister how much her support meant to her. She consulted with Laurie about it, and they agreed a token of appreciation was the least they could do. An expensive gift was out of the question, no matter how tasteful; as much pleasure as it would have given them, she was as proud as they came, and didn’t care for unpractical things. Jo also refused to let them invest in the school more than they did at present, which left them with few other options. But the answer came to them soon enough, and so they resolved to send for her at once, passing a message as they had done not long ago. This time Laurie had the presence of mind to let her know nothing was amiss, expressing their wish to see her nonetheless.

Once again Jo found herself at her sister’s doorstep after a letter from Teddy, this time without a sense of impending dread cursing through her. Much like he had then he accompanied her on her tour of the house, but gone was the tight silence of the past, replaced with a seemingly endless string of things he wished to say. He couldn’t– _wouldn’t_ –stop talking about his wife and daughter. It was nothing short of adorable, and reminded Jo of his old easy-going demeanour.

Now she sat next to her sister and niece, awaiting his return, when the former cleared her throat.

“We’d like you to be her godmother,” Amy said, as casually as one commenting on the fairness of the weather.

Jo was dumbfounded for a while. To her, it was fully unexpected. “Why–that is to say, surely you’d want Marmee, or Meg–maybe next time, I could–”

Her sister grew serious. “This baby, our baby, she’s a blessing. Every child is, I know, but in our case...” she carried off, smiling down at the tiny hand that gripped her finger with surprising force. “I doubt we’ll be blessed a second time,” she confessed, almost in a whisper. There was no sorrow in her voice, only acceptance.

When she glanced up to see the look in Jo’s face, an argument about to spill from her lips, she raised a hand. “No. It doesn’t matter. I have my girl, and as long as she’s happy and healthy I’ll consider myself the luckiest woman who’s ever lived.” Jo was silent, and she pressed on. “Laurie and I, we both want you to be her godmother. And _I_ want _you_ , and no one else, to fill that place. You were by my side this entire time, giving up countless hours just to make me feel better–spinning stories so I wouldn’t be miserable while wasting in bed all day, allowing me to lean on you when I was too big to walk without support even with the knowledge I’d likely crush you if I fell. For that and everything else you’ve done, you deserve the honour more than anyone. Will you, Jo? Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.” With the back of her hand she wiped a stray tear or two away. “Have you picked a name already?”

“Elizabeth,” Amy said, admiring her sleeping daughter, “but we’ll call her Bess, for short.” Now she turned to Jo, expectant. “Do you like it?”

“Very much so.” Jo caressed one of the baby’s soft cheeks, a tenderness filling her. “Welcome to the world, Little Bess.”

_**fin** _


End file.
